Tourists In Vigata
by ThePointGirl
Summary: Inspector Montalbano. Two tourists are in Vigata, Montelusa and slowly get involved with the police through being witnesses, car problems, public shootings, bad flirting and other strangely odd ways. But it all starts with a bit of lunch. OCs Michelle and Helen.
1. Lunch On The Plaza

**Title: **Tourists In Vigata

**Disclaimer:** I don't own BBC Four's Inspector Montalbano, but I wish I owned Fazio ;)

**Notes:** I have never written for this fandom in my life before now, and I am doing it from two OCs points of view. One of them is myself, the other is FreekyDisaster18 :) It's a chapter thing. Hopefully.

Enjoy and review.

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

Two men sat at the table across from me at the restaurant on the edge of Vigata.

Being a tourist and waiting for a friend, I took pictures of the view on my phone, relaxing very slightly at each photo.

The sun was blazing, lighting up the town, illuminating its elegance and history. Gosh, it's beautiful.

Sipping my white wine and casually checking my messages. My friend was late; apparently she was having trouble at her villa. Poor Helen. I replied, saying that I was fine in the sun at the restaurant and she could take as long as she wished.

Gazing around I looked at the two men who were in light conversation. Both were clearly natives from their speech, and how they were so at ease with their surroundings.

One was older, tougher in physique with strong arms under a white shirt. He had little to no hair, what was left was grey and dusted his head; however it suited him in the Yul Brenner way. He was handsome, charismatic in his movements. A man like that would go far in London.

His partner was smaller, though tall and lanky. Deeply tanned skin, like he'd been raised in the sunshine. Black hair cut short, but it was beginning to curl around his ears. Though slighter than the other man, he was clearly fit. Gorgeous, but that was my personal opinion.

'Ah Fazio… Mi piaci, ma si danno sui nervi' the white shirt man said, shaking his head resignedly, pouring himself some wine.

Fazio? That was the name of the dark haired man?

'Comissario-'

'Eh! Che cosa ti ho detto? Chiamami Salvo, prego'

Three years in university studying language, I could translate Italian without looking as if I were doing so. _Comissioner... _and_ Hey, what have I told you? Call me Salvo, please._

Commissioner? That meant Police Comissioner. The man looked too young to be a Commissioner. However then I remembered the police system in England is extremely different to Italy. The rankings varied, even the procedure less formal. Which is why I took a month away, settling in Vigata, Italy.

'Mi spiace, sono abituato' _Sorry I'm used to it._

'Ahh. Usato per esso. Por favore, uscire l'abitudine. Al momento, non sei il mio collega, sei ...' _Ahh.__Used to it__. __Please __get out of the habit__. __At the moment,__you're not __my colleague__, you're ..._

The man – Salvo – faltered, looking down at the crisp tablecloth, then out onto the veranda, squinting.

His friend, Fazio, shook his head slowly, looking at Salvo.

'Vedere. Non puoi chiamare altro che un collega. Stai bene con Mimi!' See. _You can't call me anything but a colleague. You're fine with Mimi!_

I frowned. Suddenly realising I was intruding in the conversation that I wasn't meant to hear.

'Mimi è Mimi! Lo conosco da molto tempo, che mi spinge pazzo ma mi importa di lui. Fazio, quando ti sei iscritto Sapevo che sarebbe andato lontano. Hai talento. Il che è raro sanguinosa. Sei diventato il mio amico soprattutto dopo sei tornato per me al porto turistico' Salvo said, finally returning his gaze to his Fazio who just looked back at him for a few moments. _Mimi is Mimi! I've known him for a long time, he drives me insane but I care about him. Fazio, when you joined I knew you would go far. You've got talent. Which is bloody rare. You became my friend especially after you came back for me at the marina._

These two men were, from what I gathered they worked together, something had happened to the man Salvo at the marina, which had an affect on the relationship of theirs.

'Tu sei il mio capo, che eri nei guai. Potrei dire. Non avevo intenzione di lasciare lì' Fazio replied, taking a swig from his wine glass. Salvo ran a hand over his mouth, perhaps thinking of what to say. _You're my boss, you were in trouble. I wasn't going to leave you there._

To me, it sounded as if Fazio had helped Salvo somehow. The pragmatics of the scene showed that Fazio was hiding, not being completely truthful in what he was saying.

'Fazio. Mi hai salvato la vita. Si premette il grilletto prima che potesse Gallo, lo disarmato. Lui mi avrebbe sparato, sarei all'obitorio!' Salvo scowled at Fazio, leaning back in his chair. _Fazio. You saved my life. You pulled the trigger before Gallo could, you disarmed him. He would have shot me, I'd be in the morgue!_

Oh. Well, bloody hell.

The waiter arrived with my appetiser, apple-goat cheese bruschetta. It looked glorious, fresh. 'Grazie' I said smiling. Glancing up briefly, I caught the eye of Fazio. Warm deep brown eyes met mine, trying to work something out. I grinned politely, picking up my wine glass and raising it to him. He nodded, a small smile, doing the same with his own glass.

I focused on my lunch, still listening to the conversation between the two men which carried on after a short pause.

'Salvo. Mi importa di te. So che ti ha detto Mimi –' Fazio began, an interjection from Salvo stopped him talking. _Salvo, I care about you. I know that Mimi told you –_

I swallowed, a forkful of bruschetta.

'Ha detto che hai guardato verso di me. Ti ho assunto, non è insolito. Ti ho scelto, tu sei parte della mia squadra. In realtà, voi siete la mia squadra la maggior parte del tempo!' Salvo said _He said that you looked up to me. I hired you, it's not unusual. I picked you out, you're part of my team. Actually, you are my team most of the time! _I almost wanted to smile at the exasperated tone of Salvo. I wondered whether he relied more on Fazio than he took notice for. 'Non mi piace quando le persone pensano di poter semplicemente 'prendere in prestito' i miei ufficiali' he finished, throwing a hand up and then smiling. _I don't like it when people think they can just borrow my officers._

'Lui mi ha fatto correre ... così non è diverso' Fazio said, the two sharing an inside joke. _He had me running about... so no different. _

My guess was that another supervising police officer lacked in man power and nabbed Fazio from Salvo's team. That happened frequently in London, as numbers were ridiculously low within travelling teams in investigations.

'Oh haha molto divertente. Presumo che metterli al loro posto, eh?'_Oh haha very funny. I assume you put them in their place? _Salvo said, presumably referring to the team Fazio had been positioned to work with.

'Certo che l'ho fatto' _Of course I did._

'Buona. In ogni caso, non sta succedendo di nuovo. La prossima volta, prometto di tenervi' Salvo clapped a hand onto the back of Fazio's shoulder, in a friendly way, pulling the man closer to him. The tiny movement spoke volumes to an outsider. _Good. Anyway, it's not happening again. Next time I promise to keep you. _Fazio nodded, smiling.

'Grazie' Fazio said softly.

The moment interupted as a call came from the other side of the plaza.

'Salvo! Ci si e' _There you are! _Naturally I turned to look, and saw another man walking toward the table. He was slim built, wavy hair, pointed features.

'Ah Mimi!' Salvo said, hand dropping from Fazio's shoulder, to stand up and briefly hug the new member of the party. Mimi then sitting down on the empty chair.

This was Mimi, another colleague? I finished my starter, tearing my eyes from the men to the view. Letting the heat settle on my eyes, closing them and sighing.

'Normalmente non venire qui, Salvo. Cosa sta succedendo?' the new man named Mimi's voice asked. _You don't normally come here, Salvo. What's going on?_

'E 'la scelta di Fazio. Ha cenato qui spesso. Si dovrebbe provare la pasta è meraviglioso' Salvo replied, emphasizing the end of the sentence which related to the food. _It's Fazio's choice. He dines here often. You should try the pasta it's wonderful. _

'Ah, sì, lo farò. Come sta Livia, Salvo?' replied Mimi. I opened my eyes again, blinking. _Ah yes, I will. How is Livia, Salvo?' _

Livia. A sister?

'Sta bene. Io non la vedo da un po'' _She's fine. I haven't seen her in a while. _

Mimi laughed, grinning like a schoolboy. 'Onestamente. E 'bellissima. Una ragazza così stupendo e non ti preoccupare' _Honestly. She's beautiful. A girl as gorgeous as that and you don't worry?_

'No, non nel modo in cui si sta implicando mia cara Mimi' Slavo said simply, as if no argument was needed. _No. Not in the way you are implying my dear Mimi. _Mimi himself, simply looked in awe for a minute, then turned his attention to Fazio who looked distant.

'Fazio. C'è qualcuno che si sta tenendo segreto?' _Fazio. Is there anyone you're keeping secret? _

'_S_e ci fosse, io non te lo direi Mimi' the banter light, but had elements of history and tension. _If there was, I wouldn't tell you Mimi._

Another waiter walked to the table announcing 'Comissario Montalbano_!_ E 'una grande notizia che tu cenare qui'_ It is great news to have you dine here. _The man shook Salvo's hand with great affection and admiration. Commissioner Salvo Montalbano. I might be in the presense of a local celebrity and I was none the wiser.

'Il mio collega Fazio' Salvo introduced, but the waiter beamed.

'Lo so ispettore Fazio. E 'uno dei miei clienti preferiti' _I know Inspector Fazio. He is one of my favourite customers. _

I blinked. Inspector? The man looked incredibly young, perhaps that was lucky genetics.

'Aha si. E 'molto gentile da parte tua' Fazio held up his hand, their hands meeting. 'Questo è il vice commissario Augello' _Ah yes. That's very kind of you. This is Deputy Commissioner Augello. _Fazio motioned toward the new name who's name I'd thought was Mimi but using elementary skills of deduction it must be a first or nickname for the man. The waiter seemed extremely pleased that theses three men were sitting at his table in the restuarant where he worked. It was rather sweet. In London, the police are treated like the underclass rather than heroes, which is what these men were.

'Il mio ristorante è in funzione nella mia famiglia da generazioni. Per avere qualcuno come te Commissario, conquistando la mia tabella è un onore. Fazio è anche un amico di famiglia, non è vero?' _My restaurant has been running in my family for generations. To have someone like you Commissioner, gracing my table is an honour. Fazio too is a family friend, aren't you? _

Salvo and Mimi both looked at Fazio who suddenly went sort of rigid, then he ducked his head smiling.

The waiter was not just a waiter at all, he owned the place! Only in Vigata would the owner of a restaurant dress in a creamy white apron, pinned at his waist, and wait tables. Seeing that in London would be a fine thing. It was brilliant, and I was in awe. Thinking that Helen should hurry up so I could tell her all of this over lunch.

'So che suo fratello, sì' _I know his brother, yes. _

'Sta facendo il modesto, mia madre lo adora! E 'vero. Lei non va mai senza chiedere se si è stati in per un caffè o una birra' the man said happily, reaching to clasp Fazio's shoulder. Fazio laughed quietly. _He's being modest, my mother adores him! It's true. She never goes without asking whether you've been in for a coffee or beer._

I smiled into my gulp of wine, thinking that _that _ was a perfect way of embarassing a man in front of his senior colleagues. Fazio's friends were delighted at the news, Mimi laughing as soon as the man left to get them more drinks.

'Non hai mai parlato di questo Fazio. Mi vergogno di te. Ha una sorella?' Mimi chuckled, shaking his head at his younger colleague. _You have never mentioned this Fazio. I'm ashamed of you. Does he have sister?_

For the briefest of moments Fazio just blinked, then answered in the most gentlemanly of fashions 'No, non lo fa. Sua madre è più che sufficiente' and Salvo raised an eyebrow, as if he were confused whether to admonish his young friend or laugh at the joke. _No he doesn't. His mother is quite enough. _

'Fazio. Che cosa vuoi dire?' Mimi asked, smiling, pretending complete innocence to Fazio's humour.

'Tu sai cosa voglio dire' Fazio replied rather tersely.

'Voi due! Smettere. Dai, andiamo a riposare. Dovremmo essere felici non ci sono omicidi. Gli abitanti di Vigàta sono in una pace' Salvo reasoned, just as the owner returned to the table with a glass of wine for Mimi and Salvo and Fazio's main dishes. _You two! Stop. Come on, let's relax. We should be happy there are no murders. The people of Vigata are at peace._

Mimi held out his hands in resignation, Fazio nodded in silent agreement, and Salvo lifted his glass to the people of Vigata. The sound of chinking glasses echoed against the low stone wall and flooring.

Not soon after the men tucked into their lunches did Mimi's phone ring. The man sighed into the reciever, nodding and answering when he needed to. 'Sarò a casa subito ... Sì lo farò ... Calmati Sono sicuro che sta bene ... Okay ... Ci vediamo tra qualche minuto ... Me ne vado ora. Arrivederci' Mimi shut his phone, replacing it in his pocket. 'Salvo è malato, o almeno Beatrice pensa così. Vado a casa a controllare su di lui e di lei. Ci vediamo domani. Godetevi il vostro pranzo' Mimi rephrased for the others. _Salvo is ill, or at least Beatrice thinks so. I'm going home to check on him and her. I'll see you tomorrow. Enjoy your lunch. _Since there was already one Salvo, and he was sat at the table, I came to the conclusion that this Salvo could possibly be a child, and Beatrice his mother. However, what do I know, I'm just a tourist.

'Go, Mimi. Prenditi cura del tuo bambino piccolo, ha bisogno di suo padre in giro. Dategli un abbraccio me e Fazio' Salvo said waving dismissively at Mimi as if he had been getting the man to move for years and it was only mow beginning to accept it. _Go Mimi. Take care of your little baby boy, he needs his father around. Give him a hug from Fazio and me. _

'Lo farò. Lo farò. Ci vediamo più tardi' Mimi tucked in his chair, fixing his blazer and waving to the two, passing the waiter and saying goodbye him.

Silence settled once again over this half of the restaurant. A couple six tables away were in avid discussion about something, sitting close and clearly in love. Fazio paid attention to his pasta.

Faintly, I could hear the sound of a new customer waiting to be seated, so I turned to look. I beamed in seeing who it was.

'Helen! Over here' I gestured and the waiting let her through with a welcoming smile. She sat down on the chair beside me, and I poured her a generous glass of wine from the bottle. 'Hello. Everything sorted at the villa then?' I asked and she groaned, flicking her ginger fringe aside.

'Yep. It's all sorted. God. It's not worse than with Emma in Paris, but it's not far off' she said and we accepted the menu from the waiter. I let her know I had already had a starter and she hummed in looking at the list. 'Try to be more subtle about eyeing up the locals' she said, smirking behind the pages. I rolled my eyes.

'What? Let it alone'

'Come off it Michelle, I know you'

'Ah santa maria' I said sarcastically.

'Shush'

We placed our order, and I said in a low voice that the two men opposite were police officers, detectives. Helen's eyes lit up, a grin growing on her lips. 'Oh really?'

'Yep. Vigata Police. The older one is famous around here apparently' I said.

'You've been eaves dropping, haven't you?' she deduced easily.

'No. I'm just good with the Italian language' I said lowly. I couldn't help that I over heard things, and my natural curiousity got the better of me.

'So it's got absolutely nothing to do with the fact that they're both hot?' Helen said over her wine glass.

'Nope' I lied, winking at her.

'You're incorrigable' Helen said, her eyes passing me to the fantastic view. The colour of the town reflected in her blue eyes.

'Yet you still come and stay with me, in a foreign country' I deadpanned.

As our food arrived, we got to indulge in proper Italian cuisine. The sun travelled across the sky, clouds shifting, the air cooling slightly. We relaxed in our chairs, chatting casually about anything and everything.

Salvo and Fazio got up from their table, wandering past the chairs and saying a good evening to the owner who enthuasitically told them to come again soon.

I noted that their cars were parked down on the slope in front of the restaurant. It was awkward, because saying goodbye as men was a lot harder to do than if you were a woman, that much was evident. Fazio accepted a hug from Salvo, the older man telling him something but it was too far away for my hearing to be anything except useless. Fazio waited till the other man was in his car and driving off, watching it go, before getting in his own.

Sitting with a close friend in central Vigata on a pleasant afternoon to evening, I think I just witnessed the beginning of something.


	2. Vigata In The Sunshine

Chapter 2

* * *

I rolled onto my back, the book I was reading now hovering four inches away from my face in the air. Scrunching up my nose, reveling in the gruesome blood work of the author I was only acutely aware of the door opening and shutting.

'Good morning Helen' I called, the movement in the other room pausing until footsteps paced closer.

'Hey sweetie pie' she said, leaning on the door frame to my room.

'Did you have fun shopping in the market?' I asked, placing the book on my stomach and looking at my friend.

'Yes I did. Bought you that ring you've been after for ages' she said, chucking the said object at me. I missed catching it completely and it landed onto the soft white linen. A new silver ring. I had lost mine off a yacht in Spain, dragging my hands through the water the depths of the sea took it from me. I rolled it around in my palm for a while, feeling the silver warm up gently. Then I slipped it on the third finger of my right hand, showing Helen.

'Thanks. I've missed it' I hopped off the bed, walking over to hug her. She laughed, patting my head – because of my size, I'm tiny – and squeezing me.

'You're welcome kiddo. I thought you were going down to the beach?' she asked, and we broke apart. I gestured aimlessly at the book on the bed.

'I'm not going to lie, I got distracted by the book' I said and Helen smirked, all knowing. I rolled my eyes at the woman.

'Let's go down to the beach then and soak up some sun. We hardly ever get this weather in England' she really did have a point. Swimming pools were the best option in England as the beaches were nothing compared to anything in Europe.

'Sure. Let's go. We'll get into our costumes and head down. We are practically _on_ the beach' I said, turning to my suitcase which I was still living out of. A habit it would take me some time to relieve myself of.

'Fine by me I'll be back in a bit' Helen replied, going into her own room and closing the door. Trifling passed all my other clothes to the swimsuit at the bottom of the case.

Traipsing down the stairs at the back of the villa, out onto the deep oak wood paneling that was passing for a walkway. Gosh. The water. The sea looked fantastic in its soft blue glory, stretching out. Helen had on a green one piece which showed off her legs and hips, accentuating her breasts. I stuck to a classic black one piece with shorts and a deep neckline.

In synchronicity we put on our sunglasses, then looked at each other and bursting into laughter. Running across the sand, down so we were fairly close to the water we both admired the view. Helen put down the towels in her organised fashion and we settled. When you could have this, why would you want anywhere else? Where you could have white washed stone buildings and creaky floorboards; large rooms with high ceilings. I was in love. In love with a city. How very Oscar Wilde.

'Well done. You chose well my girl' Helen nodded, and I sighed, feeling content.

'I did, didn't I? It's almost hard to think that loads of the mafia families were born in Vigata'

'What, because of the lovely scenery?' Helen joked and I nudged her in the arm.

'Yes. Though I guess it's very poetic'

'I think Emma would enjoy it down here. We could ask James along too I suppose' Helen recommended and I chuckled at the impending absurdity of that situation.

'You're the one ringing her, my dear. He's never been to Italy'

I flopped back down on my towel, hands on my stomach. Helen began putting some sun cream on her arms. I never bothered, seeing as my skin didn't tan much. I constantly looked like a resident of Iceland or, well, England.

'Michelle. Isn't that the police officer from the restaurant yesterday?' Helen asked casually. Being flat on my back, with sunglasses on, I couldn't see as to who she was referring to.

'I wouldn't know. I can't bloody see' I murmured, but sat up on my elbows to have a peek.

He wasn't hard to miss, as he was the only person, aside from us, to be out on the beach - specifically the sea. Treading up onto the main sand was the older police officer. Salvatore Montalbano, Commissioner, in light blue swimming trunks and nothing else, completely soaked from his energising swim.

Gosh.

Santa Maria.

Who said police officers could not be attractive? Relatively bronzed complexion, although nowhere near his younger colleague, with a strong chest and arms. Just as I had envisioned from the restaurant.

'Commissario!' Helen shouted suddenly, a good Italian accent running through the word. Not knowing whether to do the same or not I kept quiet.

Salvatore paused and twisted to see the pair of us. He flashed a warm smile, waving.

'Signoras, dal ristorante. Buongiorno! Ah godetevi la spiaggia e hanno una bella giornata' he said, and we both smiled back. It was sort of evident he was confused as to how we knew his job title. Clearly he hadn't thought that I would listen in. It was an old fashioned town, Vigata, perhaps the women weren't like that here. Oh, what am I talking about? It's cultural not dated. _Ladies, from the restaurant. Good morning! Enjoy the beach and have a nice day._

'Grazie Commissario. Buona giornata da soli' I cringed at my near awful dialect, but at least I had tried. Being able to translate mentally was one skill, speaking it to a Vigata resident was another entirely. _Thanks Commissario. Have a good day yourself._

As luck would have it, his smile grew a little and he nodded. 'Lei parla bene l'italiano'. He carried on walking to where I assumed his house was. He lived not far from the beach, like us! His villa was located six doors down from the one we had rented.

'He thought I could speak Italian well'

This is what I loved, small towns that were behind the times and kept the community feel. Everyone knew everyone else. We were tourists, but we were friendly ones, we didn't intrude, we wanted to relax.

That's precisely what we did, we let the sun comfort us on a deserted beach. It was absolute madness that we had this beach to ourselves, however we didn't complain.

Later in the evening it was my turn to cook, so with help from my recipe book, I created a pasta dish. Granted, I'm no brilliant chef, but I know what flavours work. So I decided, sitting at the table on the balcony that this was perfect. I'm no romantic, but this is how holidays or in my case breaks, should go. Package holidays were for people with little imagination and culture.

'You know, you should read Shantaram, I've almost finished. We're in the wrong flaming country but hey ho' I said, tipping my glass at Helen who glanced at me midway through a spoonful of creamy pasta. She nodded.

'I will. I read like the wind so yep, sure. Hand it over when you're done. Do you want to drive around tomorrow?' she asked, and I remembered that I had filled up the car.

'Sounds like a plan to me. Hopefully the lovely weather stays ever so present' I grinned. As the sun slowly went down, we lazed around and sat outside talking on the balcony.

Before going to bed that night, Helen checked on the Impala, not that vandalism seemed like a huge crime here. A 1967, black coated, Chevrolet Impala. My dream car was all mine. Getting a job in the government meant I could afford one, so I bought it and made a promise never to sell it on. She – the car – fit right in amongst the cobbled stones and the old crumbling buildings and vibrant plant life. Special. Different. How you should live your life, learn how to escape. In arriving we had noticed the old cars, people traveling by bicycle or walking. I could say this till no one listened anymore but it was a whole 'nother world out here. No one got in each others way, it wasn't hectic or rushed. It was calm and people didn't mind what other people got up to, to a certain extent of course.

I sat on the bonnet, sipping the last of my glass of wine and listening to the waves of the sea. My mobile rang from my jeans pocket so I answered.

'Buonasera' _Good evening_

Silence. I scowled, checking the identification. Nothing. A private number.

'Ciao? Chi è questo?' _Hello? Who is this?_

Panic started to rise. Anger beginning to boil. I tried to reason with myself that it was probably a bad line or something.

'Ciao? Se questo è James Robertson sto tornando a casa e farti male_' _I snapped_. Hello? If this is James Robertson I'm coming back home and hurting you._ Still no luck, be that as it may I could tell there was someone else on the line. I switched to English in case the person calling couldn't understand a word of what I was saying and got confused. Perhaps it was my bank. It wouldn't surprise me, I just put out a payment for a high priced villa in Vigata. I would be quite concerned. 'For the love of... Seriously. Hello, who's calling?'

After that, I gave up. Ending the call I ran hands over my face and hopped off the bonnet of the car. Going back upstairs, passing Helen's room, the woman tilted her head at me.

'What was that about?' she asked.

'Ah nothing, probably the wrong number. I need some sleep. Buonanotte'

Waking up to the light streaming past the the curtains and the smell of bacon, I was temporarily confused as to where I was. I could be back in student accommodation at university. Of course I wasn't, and I realised that fact and got up. After breakfast, humming 'La Mer' by Julio Iglesias, Helen and I got in the car and drove out to the town.

The wheels bumped surprisingly smoothly against the cobbled streets behind our villa.

'Who was on the phone last night?' Helen asked from the passenger seat.

'I have no idea, Helen'

'Sure?'

'Yes. Positive. Your call, left or right?' I asked her, slowing the car to a stop as we came to a crossroads.

'Sinistra' Helen replied easily and my eyebrows shot up whilst turning left as she said so.

'Check you learning Italian' I winked, Helen smugly nodded.

'Uhuh. Ho dovuto. Non riuscivo a venire a stare con te se non l'ho fatto' Helen frowned, not sure whether that was the right phrasing. I nodded eagerly. _I had to. I couldn't come and stay with you if I didn't. _

'Brilliant. How much do you know so far?' I asked, feeling the smooth gravel slip under the Impala. We were now heading down the hill, passing residential houses.

'Not enough, but it's coming along'

We stopped at the corner just at the end of the street beside a small shop. Shutting off the engine, I leant back into the leather seats. The shop had pot plants outside, the doors red and an assistant happily smoking. The rustic exterior was weathered and worn. We did need a few things, milk for example as the two of us drink copious amounts of tea. Perhaps we could do with running an errand, or make sure we pass this way later on.

'You know, I'm going to get a drink from over there' Helen nodded at the shop, pulling at the handle of the car door and about to get out when there was a crash and a very loud shout.

Almost on instinct, we both immediately looked towards the noise. Which, after a few seconds, we realised had come from the shop which we were just watching.

The red doors were thrown open and a man was propelled backwards onto the road. Scrambling back, until another man appeared looking livid. This new addition to the commotion elevated the interest of Helen and I. Whatever their story was, it should be stopped. The man shouted at the one on the ground, gesturing manically. He lunged, grabbing the other man by the shirt collar and shaking him fiercely. The assumed victim of the attack was trying to get the man off him, throwing punches to anything he could reach. Crime of passion perhaps? But out in the open?

'Smettere!' _Stop!_

'Smettere! Polizia. Smettere!' _Stop! Police. Stop!_

Two new voices shouted. We looked around wildly for the new help, seeing two men run across the road to the problem. A flash of movement, the fighters being prized apart, the two men telling them off in fast Italian. Police officers rushing to the scene, just like it is in the films, and how it isn't in real life. Specifically London. It was great to watch.

I recognised one of the police officers. Fazio. Ispettore Fazio. He was kindly helping up the man from the floor, brushing him down and asking what had happened. That's all I could gather from the Italian. As he let the man talk, Fazio looked around. Maybe for witnesses. His eyes rested on the Impala. Head cocking to one side, before he said something to his colleague and walked over.

'Have we just become witnesses to an assault and battery?' Helen asked me, still gazing at the scene. My focus fixated on the man now right beside the car. 'Buongiorno, ehm, Ispettore'

'Buongiorno. Lei era qui poco fa. Potrebbe dirmi quello che hai visto?' _Good morning. You were here a few moments ago. Could you tell me what you saw? _

In trying not to gape like a teenage girl, I nodded and flashed a grin.

'Sì. Beh, niente era in corso finché l'uomo a destra è caduto attraverso le porte. Sembrava che ha iniziato l'argomento. L'altro non ha lasciato su di lui' I replied, tapping my hands on the wheel. _Yes. Well, nothing was going on until the man on the right fell through the doors. It looked like he started the argument. The other man didn't let up on him. _

That sounded very wet, and pathetic. I was a member of Her Majesty's Service and here I was in Italy, blushing over a small town police officer.

'Grazie'

'Vuoi andare in giro normalmente rottura combattimenti?' I asked. _Do you usually walk around breaking up fights?_

'No. Si tratta di pura fortuna. Ispettore Fazio' he held out a hand to me, and I took it with a nod. Helen leaned over to shake his hand too._ No. This is pure luck. Inspector Fazio. _Introducing himself like a a gentleman.

'Il mio nome è Michelle, questo è Helen' _My name is Michelle, this is Helen._

'Piacere di conoscerti. Speriamo che non si vede molto di più la criminalità a Vigàta' Fazio replied, sounding apologetic. _Good to meet you. Hopefully you don't see so much more crime in Vigata. _

I wanted to tell him that, that was a little playground tiff compared to the fights in London. Although, I'm sure that he didn't want to upset us as we were outsiders looking into the world of Vigata.

Helen chuckled – she must have translated the sentence..

'E 'perfettamente bene ... Penso che ti vogliono' I said, looking past the handsome Sicilian – Italian, to the other police officer who was seemed frustrated. _It's perfectly fine... I think you're wanted._ I nodded past Fazio, who swiveled at the shout of his name not a few moments later.

'Lo so. Io sarò con voi in un momento' Fazio said loudly to his partner who shrugged helplessly. My guess was that his partner was a lower rank than him. Turning back to Helen and I, Fazio said 'Grazie per le vostre signore di aiuto e mi piace la tua auto' and smirked, 'Addios'. He went back to his colleague as we both said goodbye. I gaped at Helen. _Thank you for your help ladies, and I like your car._

'Adios...He liked my car' I said, pleased with myself.

'Dear god. She's beautiful, you know she is'

'Yes. Just means the people of Vigata have taste' I said proudly, digging for my wallet in my jeans. Helen rolled her eyes at me, then gently smacking my head.

'It means you've got the hots for Ispettore Fazio' she smirked.

Doing the only thing I thought necessary, I poked my tongue out at her and grabbed the keys from the ignition. I did not have the hots for the Inspector. 'Come on. You said you wanted to go to the shop' I reasoned.

Evidence of the fight was non existent. Vigata's streets had forgotten it already. It would be in the gossip though, it was that sort of town.

'E 'una scena del crimine ora' I laughed at Helen's speech. _It's a scene of crime now._

'You've been watching too many Italian crime dramas. Assault and battery is hardly a big thing is it?' I asked, locking the car and ambling with her across the road to the shop. The doors – on closer inspection – were dirtier than I had been led to believe. 'Proves something anyway' I muttered as we entered the dimly lit but pleasant interior of the shop. The assistant looked up, wary of new people obviously.

'What's that?' Helen asked distractedly, eying the jars of Italian soup.

'That crime really does go on in Vigata' I said, forgetting about the phone call, my job back home. Everything.


End file.
